


Trust.

by RandmWriter



Series: Someone who can and should rule. [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Jorah Mormont Lives, Queen Daenerys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-03 06:24:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19458220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandmWriter/pseuds/RandmWriter
Summary: As honored as Daenerys was to reign as the new queen, she would have appreciated it had someone warned her that it meant getting little to no rest.Thankfully, her loyal knight was always there - ready to stay by her side through the long, sleepless nights.





	Trust.

Daenerys knew that being a queen demanded sacrifice.

It demanded a sacrifice of her entire self - her privacy, her ambitions, her personal desires - all to help the people that she swore to serve. It was a sacrifice she had anticipated, and one she was willing to make in the name of the greater good.

What she did not anticipate, however, was the fact that being a queen required a great sacrifice of time as well. More specifically, the time she had previously allotted for rest and recuperation.

  
The silver queen muffled a yawn.

  
She knew she had no one to blame but herself. She had not gotten a wink of sleep since her reign had begun - but then again, no other ruler in Westeros had instigated changes as drastic as hers.

The sleepless nights had begun when she decided to reveal the truth of Jon’s heritage to the public. Daenerys knew that such valuable information would spread whether she wished it to or not, and she refused to spend her days living in fear of its discovery. She knew full well that in doing so, her own claim would come into question, but she also knew that the law was not as clear cut as others made it to be. There were other people who could claim the throne as their birthright, and Daenerys had enough strength to know that her claim did not rest solely upon the blood in her veins. Her bloodline could possibly grant her the throne, but whether or not she would be able to keep it was another matter entirely.

To truly win the throne, she knew she had to win the hearts of the people who followed it.

And so she spent yet another sleepless night, preparing the words she wished to say to the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, that would ultimately determine the fate of her odyssey. When morning finally came, she walked into the Dragon Pit - tall, proud, and every bit the queen she knew she was - not as Daenerys Targaryen, but as Daenerys _Stormborn_.

With the fire of conviction burning bright in her eyes, her voice was strong and clear as she spoke the words that rang true in her heart.

She spoke of her story: of coming to Westeros with the intention to break the wheel - not to simply put it back in its place with her family on top. She echoed the words she'd spoken at Dragonstone: that she had come to save this country, not to conquer it; that she was not the same as the Targaryens before her. She spoke of her plan to destroy the Iron Throne, and to offer sovereignty to the kingdoms who wished for it - leaders no longer forced to submit to a tyrant's dominion. She spoke of rulers being chosen rather than born - of merit outweighing birth and bloodlines - and spoke of a realm that was ruled by the one deemed the most worthy.

She spoke of a new Westeros - a _better_ Westeros - sovereign yet unified. Where kingdoms seeking independence could choose their own leaders and make their own laws, but were all checked and balanced to safeguard the peace.

And at the end of it all, she told them the age-old story - _their_ age-old story - of death and bloodshed and war and conquest, before painting the picture of the peaceful world she knew they could create; they needed only follow her.

It was a radical decision; a risk, she knew - but it was also a necessary one.

And when her tale finished and the nomination was raised, the ayes of agreement to proclaim her as Queen of the Six Kingdoms rang loudly in the courtyard.

She had hoped, then, that it was finally finished, and that sleepless nights were things of the past. Alas, it was not to be; councils, concerns and urgent documents made sure of it. But to this, she would not complain. This was what she had fought for - the chance to leave this world better than she found it - and she was thankful for the opportunity to do so.

She was even more thankful that, though it all, she had not been alone. At the thought, a small smile graced the queen's lips, as she finally raised her eyes to the man in question.

  
There, sitting before her, was Ser Jorah Mormont.

  
His rugged features were bathed in the warm glow of her study's hearth, the firelight shining in his hair and dyeing the strands a russet gold. From where she sat, she could see the furrow in his brow as he scanned a piece of parchment - cerulean eyes focused intently on the trading contract in hand.

She saw him read the same line twice - _thrice_ \- before he blinked the drowsiness from his eyes, and tried his best to muffle a yawn.

Daenerys allowed herself an amused smile; this sight was certainly familiar to her. After all, it had been Jorah who had stayed with her on those long, sleepless nights, advising her on which course of action to take.

  
It had been Jorah who suggested that she reveal Jon's heritage, and had argued the proposition when she met it with incredulity. Through the night, he had explained the inevitability of the secret's discovery - of the consequences it would incur when it finally came to light. He told her of the complexities of the law she relied on - of varying claims, of dynasties, of Baratheons, and of Targaryens - before telling her that blood alone would not win the loyalty of the people she wished to rule.

Jorah had been the one to convince her that to bring about the change she sought - to _well and truly_ break the wheel - she first had to earn the trust of her people. And he had been the one to _convince_ her that she was capable of winning their hearts. It was his unwavering belief in her that had emboldened her to reveal Jon's heritage to the public - and days later - it was this same belief that gave her the strength to argue her own worthiness to rule.

  
It was important to note, however, that her council was not limited to the knight, alone. There were others who had advised her in the most crucial of times - a certain Lannister being the first to come to mind.

  
It was true that Tyrion aided her in many things - both he and Jorah had been instrumental in convincing her to offer the kingdoms their independence, despite her initial uncertainty. From sunset to sunrise, her knight and her Hand had argued that kingdoms seeking sovereignty - particularly, the North - would sooner fight to the last man than bend the knee, and that to go to war with them would do nothing to accomplish the change she wished for. Alternatively, it was Tyrion who had claimed that an offer of independence would be instrumental in forging a strong alliance, that would in turn help bring about her intended reforms.

They had debated over the matter back and forth, that evening - but while her Hand _did_ join them in discussion until the wee hours of dawn, it was Jorah who had steadfastly refused to leave her side, regardless of his own need for rest.

  
And even now, Daenerys could see the same stubbornness in her dear bear's eyes, as he set his jaw and studied the documents with a dogged sort of determination.

She shook her head almost fondly at his expression.

  
“Are you all right, Ser Jorah?” she asked, and immediately, the Lord Commander of her Queensguard snapped to attention. She continued with an amused twitch of her lips, "You may retire for the evening, should you wish to, Ser. I am more than capable of finishing these trade negotiations myself.”

  
The knight’s prompt response, however, was to shake his head and rub the sleep from his eyes, even as his eyelids drooped.

  
“I'm quite all right, Khaleesi, thank you,” he said - and while Daenerys supposed he meant to reassure her, it was difficult to be convinced when he spoke the words around a yawn. Ever the warrior, Jorah forged on, “I know you're perfectly capable of reviewing the contracts yourself, my Queen, but I should still like to help you if I can.”

  
It was the same reply he always gave her when she offered to dismiss him for the night, and at the familiar words, Daenerys smiled. There was no point in arguing with him - that much she knew. Her bear was as stubborn as they came, and he would undoubtedly think it a _travesty_ that _he_ should be able to rest, while his queen toiled through the night. He would forego sleep for a fortnight if he had to - Daenerys knew she needed only ask - battling his exhaustion and his fatigue through sheer force of will; ever determined to stay by her side.

_  
‘Loyal and steadfast, no matter the circumstance.'_

  
The observation was a simple one, but it made something warm and tender bloom in her heart, regardless. Daenerys allowed the warmth to color her tone as she began to speak once more,

  
"Very well,” she said, inclining her head in acquiesce. "Though I must insist we both retire at a more reasonable hour tomorrow evening, Ser. It wouldn’t do the kingdom well to have both its Queen and its Lord Commander swaying where they stand.”

  
Her purposeful allusion to his house words did not go unnoticed, and at the reference, Jorah huffed out a chuckle - a smile on his lips as he dipped his head in a bow.

  
“Of course, Your Grace.”

  
The words of agreement saw the matter resolved, and with nothing left for them to discuss, Daenerys decided it was time she returned to the papers that begged her attention. She gifted her knight with one final smile, before turning back to the contracts that awaited her approval. When she heard the sound of shuffling pages, she knew that her advisor had resumed his review as well.

And as a quiet hush settled on the room - easy and familiar to both the queen and her knight - the pair fell into a warm, comfortable silence.

A silence that the both of them had come to treasure, over the course of these long, sleepless nights.

It was almost ironic, Daenerys supposed, how this silence could speak volumes; how they could understand what the other wished to express in these moments, with nary a word between them. It was almost like a language, she would say - a language that they had created, and that only _they_ could ever hope to understand. Their dialect was spoken - not in vowels or in consonants - but in the quiet crackle of the hearth, and in the soft rustle of their papers. She could hear the words in the warm glow of the firelight - in the calmness that washed over them, and in the assurance her knight's presence always seemed to provide. Their syntax was as clear to her as the scent of parchment in her nose, and its meaning just as audible as the gentle scratching of their quills. Theirs was a language that required neither the harshness of a brogue, nor the speed of rapid diction. It was much kinder - gentler - spoken at its own, unrushed pace, with a rhythm that fell in time to the cadence of their own breathing.

And it was in these quiet moments - so far removed from the hectic rush that characterized their days - that the queen and her knight found peace and contentment, simply by being in each other's presence.

And truly, everything was perfect.

  
...Or at least it had been, when _suddenly_ -

  
* ** _THUMP*_ **

  
Daenerys jumped a foot in her seat, startled by the sudden noise that broke her from her reverie. Her eyes immediately snapped up to the source of the sound - half-expecting to see Jorah already up and alert - ready to defend his queen from the imminent danger. Perhaps she had expected to see a spy or an assassin - perhaps she had hoped it was merely a tome that had fallen to the floor.

Whatever it was that she had been expecting, it was _nothing_ compared to the sight that finally met her eyes.

Because lying there - with his head on the table of his queen's private study - was Ser Jorah Mormont, already asleep and snoring softly.

  
Daenerys had to blink to make sure this was no illusion.

  
When the truth of the situation finally washed over her, she couldn’t help the smile that found its way to her lips - the expression equally fond and amused. It seemed that her knight - her loyal, steadfast, _stubborn_ knight - had finally succumbed to his body’s need for rest and recuperation.

It was a foreign sight to the young woman. Ser Jorah had _always_ been the one to stand guard and watch over her as she slept - always taking up the role of protector to his queen and her group. He had stood watch over their camp during their days in the Red Waste, and had patrolled the halls of Meereen and Dragonstone during the nights of her reign.

Thinking about it now, Daenerys noted with surprise that she had _never_ seen her knight asleep before. Yes, she had stayed by his side as he recovered from near-fatal injuries - a memory she didn’t care to dwell on, for the grief it caused her heart - but his slumber then had been neither restful nor easy. He had been fighting off both blood loss and infection those awful nights - a fever perpetually raging under his skin as he fought to survive. His labored breaths, then, had been quick and shallow - his brow always furrowed and his face knotted in pain. Even in his unconscious state, she had seen her bear's pain so, so clearly, and her heart had shattered at the sight of it.

But _now_... now her bear looked peaceful. He looked calmer - _younger_ \- the lines of worry on his face, smoothened over in the restfulness of sleep. Daenerys could hear his quiet breathing settle - evening out as it deepened in his slumber - his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath.

This was a side of him she had never been privy to - and for the first time in all the years she had known him, her bravest, most courageous knight looked vulnerable and unguarded.

  
And Daenerys' heart couldn’t help but warm tenderly at the sight.

  
A few moments passed as the silver queen pondered on which course of action to take - unsure of what to do with her now-slumbering advisor. She knew she could simply leave him be and allow him a few more hours of rest, but his current position did not look the least bit comfortable. He would never voice his discomfort come daybreak, Daenerys was certain, but she would prefer to spare her Lord Commander a sore neck and aching back if she could help it. A bed was undoubtedly the best option for her knight - but between his frame of six feet and the distance to his chambers - the queen doubted she would be able to get him there without requiring his awareness and assistance.

And _that_ , of course, was out of the question.

Daenerys knew that Jorah would be _mortified_ to be woken up by his queen - quickly realizing that he had fallen asleep in her presence, despite his most valiant efforts. Her suggestion that he rest would surely go unheeded, and he would then be _even more_ determined to deny his body the sleep that it was yearning for. Daenerys knew her knight well - and she knew that he would fight to stay awake in a misguided attempt at penance - robbing him of rest once more.

  
And so, she could not wake him - she _would_ not. Perhaps it was sentimentality speaking, but a part of her was unwilling to do so from the very beginning.

  
Wracking her mind for a solution, Daenerys almost missed the small movement in the corner of her eye. The motion was near-imperceptible - but as she took the time to properly observe her knight, she could now see the fine tremors that shook his body. It only took a moment for the queen to realize what the shivers meant - the conclusion clear and simple: Ser Jorah Mormont was _cold_.

He was sat farther away from the warm hearth in her study, and coupled with the fact that its flame was now dwindling, Daenerys began to notice the chill that hung in the air. She had always assumed that her advisor’s Northern blood made him immune to the frigid weather - but that, apparently, was not the case. She was sure his exhaustion did not help matters, either.

And so as quietly as she could manage, Daenerys made her way to her desk and rummaged through its many drawers, before finally finding the blanket she kept for her personal use. She had taken to stashing it in her study to use on cold winter nights, and now, she was thankful for the useful habit. She unfolded the fabric before gently draping it across her knight - perching it securely upon his shoulders to ensure it would stay in place.

She still didn't know how to fashion a cushion for his head, but luckily enough, the solution presented itself when she spied one of her cloaks hanging on the rack by the door. The queen folded the article into an amply-sized bundle - but then she paused in her movements, unsure of how to proceed. She knew that lifting Ser Jorah’s head ran the very high risk of rousing him, but she couldn’t simply leave him to sleep on the unforgiving wood. At a loss for what to do, Daenerys simply nudged the pillow towards the slumbering man’s head, and prayed that her knight understood her intent.

Astonishingly enough, it seemed that even Jorah’s subconscious was incapable of refusing his queen's command. Not a moment later, the Mormont instinctively shifted towards the makeshift cushion, before he settled his head on the plush surface with a quiet sigh.

  
To this, the young woman smiled - satisfied with her work. She took a few more moments to simply observe the man as he slumbered on - watching as her knight - her _friend_ \- sunk deeper into sleep’s calm embrace.

  
Because that was what he was to her, was it not? Jorah was her dearest friend - the person she trusted most in all the world.

  
She knew she rarely vocalized it - perhaps she had only mentioned it to him on one or two occasions - but that fact and its truth was not something she called into question. There was no one else she trusted quite as readily - no one else she allowed to witness her moments of weakness and vulnerability. Yes, he had betrayed her many years ago - but she had long-since learned to understand the circumstances surrounding his actions, and he had more than convinced her of his loyalty.

And beyond the shadow of a doubt, there was no one in this world who protected her quite as fiercely - so ready to give his life just to ensure that she would live.

So to have this opportunity - to see her knight so vulnerable and unguarded - to be the _protector_ rather than the _protected_ …

  
It would not be a stretch to say that she was grateful.

  
Allowing herself a rare gesture of affection, Daenerys gently swept the stray hairs from her dear bear’s forehead, before tucking the strands behind his ear. As if to reply, Jorah sleepily buried his face deeper into his pillow - a quiet sigh of contentment passing his lips.

  
Daenerys smiled, then - warm and sincere.

  
It was silly, she realized now - to believe that she had never told Ser Jorah how much she valued his presence. Yes, she was not in the habit of vocalizing it or saying it in so many words - but that fact did not matter now, did it? What use were words, really, when their language did not require it? When a mere glance or a touch communicated more?

Perhaps no one else would ever truly understand - but that was a matter she did not need to concern herself with.

No, not now. Not tonight.

  
Making her way back to her seat, Daenerys spared her dear bear one final glance, before she took a number of papers in hand - ready to continue the long, sleepless night.

  
At the thought, the young queen laughed quietly.

  
Well. Perhaps not so sleepless after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So this fic is the official set-up for my new GoT AU!
> 
> I tried to fit in the really important info for the AU in this fic, and I really hope it turned out okay! This series will be a set of interconnected oneshots, which will explore Dany's reign with Jorah by her side.
> 
> But before anything, I just wanna give a huge thanks to [@exultedshores](https://tmblr.co/mT9jRq-qWMbixLwUTirCKOA) for helping me a whole lot with constructing my AU, and for inspiring a lot of its parts! I really couldn’t have done it without you! Another shoutout to [@lord-turnip](https://lord-turnip.tumblr.com), whose fics inspired a lot of parts of this AU!
> 
> Also, for a fun fact: this fic is called "Trust." for two reasons! A) It's because I plan for this series to have quotes for titles, and I couldn't think of any quotes that fit well - but they did have a discussion on trust! and B) It's because the story revolves around the trust that they share! Dany trusted Jorah's advice at the start of her reign, and Jorah in turn trusted Dany to be unguarded in her presence!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> As always, if you have any opinions or constructive criticism, I would be more than open to hear it! All feedback is loved and treasured, so please leave your comments down below!
> 
> Also, please feel free to drop and ask or message on my Tumblr, [@gameofthrones-fam](https://www.gameofthrones-fam.tumblr.com)! I'd love to get to know all of you more!
> 
> Thank you all again and I hope you all have a wonderful day!


End file.
